


A Land of Their Own

by tvconnoisseur



Category: Perilous Gard - Pope
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvconnoisseur/pseuds/tvconnoisseur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life on the manor is harder than Kate and Christopher expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Land of Their Own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yhlee (etothey)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etothey/gifts).



Katherine Sutton always knew she would never be an ideal wife.  After all, she was too stubborn and too inexperienced in the arts of homemaking and hospitability to be a proper lady of any regard. Against all expectations, however, she had attracted a man who didn't care about any of that.  Christopher Heron was driven, arrogant, and completely devoted to her.  She adored him no less.

The wedding had been fast and simple.  Her father, Sir Thomas, had been eager for her to wait in the comfort of the Queen's court and not be forced into a manor just on its hinges, but Kate refused.  She had envisioned the manor for nights on end to the point that its restoration was as important to her as it was to Christopher.  She was going to be there alongside him, working the land and returning it to its former glory.

Alicia, her darling sister, was still in the court of Queen Elizabeth and brushing up against womanhood quite nicely.  Their father shifted uncomfortably under the idea of paying another dowry in such a short period of time, but Kate hoped that her sister would find a good man, perhaps even in her brother-in-law:  Alicia's brief presence on Sir Geoffrey had lit a fire in him that he hadn't felt since his late wife. (Alicia was, in Christopher's ever-so-humble opinion, much like the late Lady Warden:  blonde and slight and silly as a puppy.)  However, contrary to his stoic façade, Sir Geoffrey made quite a meek suitor and Kate doubted Alicia knew how very much the man fancied her.

Susan and her son had moved with her lady and lord to the manor.  Dorothy had been distressed at the idea of losing her gossiping companion, but couldn't bear to leave Cecily alone in the care of Sir Geoffrey.  Susan served as Kate's confidante and assistant in all domestic matters:  she cared for the manor and its staff well.

The first days of wedded life were blissful.  Kate couldn't get enough of him.  But slowly the real world concerns of draining the fen land became apparent.  Sir Thomas had already made it clear that draining it to the point of maintaining a successful crop was unlikely, but Christopher was insistent.  Although he could have simply hired workers to do it for him, he was down in the thick of it every day.  No reason was given, but he was adamant that he work just as hard as his hires.  Kate expcted no less from herself, despite the protests of her family.

Sometimes when she pushed too hard, the scar on her palm would tear open and she would quickly wrap a cloth around her hand to stop the flow before Christopher noticed.  She started collecting sets of gloves.  "Good Lord, Kate.  You're as fashionable as Alicia!" Christopher joked, and she scoffed.

"Alicia would demand these in silk and lace, not leather and cord," she answered sharply.

He frowned.  "What's troubling you?"

"Nothing."

"You know how I feel about that word," Christopher murmured, pulling her into his embrace.  "Now what seems to be the matter?"

Kate shook her head.  "The manor.  Everything.  I can see what you want this all to be and I want you to have it, but I don't know how we'll make it happen."

"You'd think you didn't spend months mopping floors and washing bowls.  Hard work, Kate.  We'll muck it and drain it and save it just like you did for me."

"Ah, but _you_ were a much easier task.  All I had to do was talk at you."

"_At_ me is a keen way to put it." Christopher retorted.  "Sometimes I couldn't get in a word edgewise."

"Only because oftentimes you were either too dull or wrong." Katherine felt a glimmer of a smile pass onto her lips, but couldn't catch it before he saw it.  "You've tricked me, Christopher."

"I know you too well." He laughed.  "Better angry at me than yourself."

"I'm never truly angry with you.  Just amazed by your insolent foolishness." The barb was a peace offering and he accepted it.

"Oh, Kate."  His grey eyes shone brightly as he took her face into his hands.  "You are my mind, my eyes, and my heart."

"And you mine."  He kissed her budding smile and for a moment, Kate forgot about the pain in her palm and the blood creeping to her wrist.

***

As weeks passed, it became apparent that draining was not a one-time process.  It was a constant burden.  The moment the land was no longer swampy and held the promise of earnest crops, rain would collect in the sunken tracts and drown the brief shoots of life.  Christopher didn't have time to realize the rest of his improvements because he was so busy overseeing and working the land.  The dairy, finally located, was but a solitary ring of stone abandoned after a week of construction.

There were talks of rerouting the local river, but without approval from the rest of the landowners, it was merely a dream.  Additionally, the costs of maintenance began to pile up and that, in addition to the physical exertion, started to take its toll on Christopher.  But perhaps what was most difficult for him was the pressure he felt from the town folk who had heralded his return.  They had believed he was the savior who could revitalize their economy only to determine that he was, in fact, a charlatan.

"This was a ridiculous investment!" he spat out one night, his eyes burning after trying to budget in a new attempt at crops.  "What was I thinking?  A child's fantasy."

Kate had never done well with Christopher's dark moods.  She could fight with him or love him but found comforting him the hardest of all.  "It is anything but," she said as confidently as she could.  "We will make this work, Christopher."

"No, we won't.  I will fail, just as my father always thought I would.  I'm sure Geoffrey won't be surprised.  First I kill my mother and then almost Cecily and now I've dragged you down with me.  I've never been able to do anything right."

"Stop with this self-pity.  I won't tolerate it," Kate chastised.  "You have done such great things."

"The only time I've ever been of value was when I was about to die."

Kate's eyes narrowed.  "How dare you even think that way.  I didn't save your life so you could waste it."

He stood up.  "I'm tired, Kate.  I'd rather go to bed."

"You are not going to bed; you are going to talk to me!" Kate snapped.

"I have nothing to say to you," he responded, and he left.

That night, for the first time since she married Christopher, Kate allowed her weakness to overcome her and she cried.

***

The days that followed were harder.  Christopher barely spoke to her and Kate was at her wit's end.  After a usual day of labor draining the land and her own spirit, Kate retired early to the kitchen.  When she entered, Susan was bustling about, her red hair frizzled with oven heat.  "You look famished, Mistress Katherine.  Would you like some bread?  It's just finished baking."

Before Kate could respond, Susan had placed a large chunk of bread in front of her at the table.  "You're too thin, Mistress Katherine.  You'll need more on your bones if you're to bear Master Christopher healthy children."

"That is the least of our worries right now." Kate sighed and sat down.  "Thank you for the bread."

"And some cheese for your troubles," Susan added, placing a slab next to Kate.  "How is the bread?"

Kate took a bite.  "You've outdone yourself, Susan."

"Oh, it's just a bit of this and that.  A woman came by the house offering some very rare herbs and spices.  I bought a few of the more savory ones.  I hope you don't mind; they were a very good price and in my opinion, the household needs a touch of special comfort with tempers the way that they are."

Kate lifted her head. "A woman was here?  What sort of woman?"

Susan tutted good-naturedly.  "Oh, the usual.  Poor, oddly dressed.  A gypsy lady."

"A gypsy?  Why didn't you tell me?" Kate asked, standing.

Susan stammered.  "You told me not to bother you with domestic troubles."




"How long has she been gone?  Where did she go?"  Kate's urgency began to frighten Susan.

"I don't know.  She said she was going further into town."

Kate flung her cloak over her shoulders.  "I'll return, Susan.  If Christopher comes in before I do, please tell him I'm running errands in town."

***

Kate knew where she would find her.  She ran to the wooded area of the fenland, scanning the trees for the long green cloak and dark tresses.  "I know you're here," she cried out.  "Show yourself!"

The Lady emerged, slowly taking form out of the woods.  She was as terrible and beautiful as Kate remembered, the hardness in her eyes and the thinness of her lips still sending a shiver through Kate's body.

"You've come to repay your debt?" asked Kate.

"I came to see observe you and the Young Lord," the Lady responded.

"And what did you see?"

"The land is difficult here," the Lady answered.  "But the Young Lord desires it?"

"More than the world," Kate said.  "I haven't forgotten how you tried to trick me, but in this case I need your assistance.  I wouldn't ask unless there was no other way."

"I cannot do what you are to request of me," said the Lady.

"You said you would repay me.  The wish of my heart.  This is what I want."

"I cannot repay you in this way.  It is not within my ability."

"But you have some control over the land!" Kate insisted.  "The crop was failing in the Elvenwood and you were going to pay the teind to fix it!"

"And yet our efforts there were prevented," the Lady retorted, her voice ice.  "Even if my people were at full strength, this land is not ours.  It is not a holy land of our people."

"There must be a way," said Kate.

The Lady looked at her thoughtfully.  "Perhaps."

"Tell me."

"You would give up all rights to the land and give it to me and my people.  In your society the manor would still belong to you and the Young Lord, but the spirit of the land would be ours to do with as we wish, a place where we might gather and worship freely."

"As long as the land bears a fruitful harvest," said Kate.

The Lady took a step forward.  "You do realize this would require the same rituals and offerings we required in our old land?"

"The teind."  For a moment, Kate hesitated.  The brilliant heat of the flame across her face and the fear in her stomach from when she saw Christopher gilded and empty-minded on horseback returned to her.  Could she allow another woman to feel the same loss, whether of lover or child?  And yet she couldn't save the manor by herself.  She was a woman of strength and ability, but even she knew her limits.  Was the restoration of Christopher's dream and her spirit worth the cost of a human life?  She forced the thought from her mind.  She had outsmarted the Fairy Folk once.  She might be able to do it again.

"I know your terms and I accept."

A haughty smile passed over the Lady's lips.  "Then it is done.  My debt is repaid in full."

***

When Kate returned to the manor, Christopher sat asleep at his desk, the light of a dying candle flickering across his handsome features.  His hair looked golden in the dimming light and his face was calm for the first time in weeks.  The peaceful expression made any doubt in her deal with the Lady vanish.  She knelt beside him quietly and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Christopher?" Kate whispered.

"Good Lord!" Christopher shot upright.  "You gave me a fright, Kate.  Where have you been?"

"In town," she replied.

"Come now, Kate," said Christopher.  "I know when you're lying."

Even now, she was still shocked how well he knew every color of her voice.  "I was trying to get help to drain the fenland."

"We don't have the money, sweetheart," said Christopher.  He gave a weary sigh.  "I appreciate you trying to help, but at this point it's going to have to be our own hands.  But we will do it, even if it's just the two of us.  We have to take the land back and cultivate it and show it the strength it has forgotten."

"You talk as if there are no other options."

"There aren't."  His voice broke and he slammed the desk with his fist.  The candle's light sputtered and his jaw became as stonelike as his brother's, his façade forced into a pained mask.  Kate felt her heart break.

Without hesitation, she kissed his forehead, the bridge between his eyes, and then rested her hand upon his heart.  "What is it, Christopher?" she asked gently.

"My entire life has been about proving my worth.  I hurt the ones I love immeasurably simply by existing and the only time my life had value was when it was being offered up in sacrifice.  Since that moment when you saved me and said I was worth more alive than dead, I have sought to prove that.  To you, to my father, to Geoffrey, to Jenny.  To your father.  To the Fairy Folk, wherever they are.  And despite my best efforts, I have proven you all right and failed."

"Listen to me, Christopher Heron.  You haven't failed anyone.  You certainly haven't failed me."

Wordlessly, he took her hand from his chest and delicately pulled off the glove.  He turned her hand over, exposing the deep red cross etched in scars and dried blood.  His hand trembled at the sight of it.

"You have given me the world, Kate.  Your life and your love.  I don't want you to suffer."

Her posture stiffened.  "I can do whatever I wish.  You know me well enough that I wouldn't do anything that didn't please me.  Do you think I'm so simple-minded that I can't think for myself?  I work the land because I love it as I love you."

Christopher touched her face.  "You are the one joy in all of this, Kate.  Even if we fail in this, we tried our hardest.  We did it with our own hands and backs and without any ridiculous sacrifices to pagan gods."

"What do you mean by that?" Kate asked quickly.

"Do you know how it felt to be nothing?  Empty of thought and purpose?  They stole everything from me and I had to fight to get every part of myself back again.  We fought them and we won.  Even if I lose this manor, I didn't lose myself in the process. They didn't get a single part of me and they never will.  All thanks to you."

Kate nodded.  She knew her voice would betray her if she spoke.

Christopher continued.  "We shall succeed, Kate.  Maybe not here, but eventually.  Together.  We can't wish away the hard work, but we will have each other to rely on."

At that moment, the candle flickered out.

***

Months later when the firsts touches of green grew into tall stalks, Christopher came to Kate a man changed.  He laughed and lifted her into the air, forgetting in his joy how much she hated it.  "We've done it, Kate!  We've truly done it!"

She put on her best smile.  "I told you we would."

"And I should never have doubted you for a moment," he said, bringing back to the ground.  "Oh, Kate.  We have to celebrate!"

"I suppose we should." Kate's voice came out colorless.

Christopher looked at her intently.  "Kate, I know it's been a long, hard stretch of months, but now is finally an occasion for joy!  We have made something of ourselves.  We should sing and dance!"  He smiled at the thought.  "Now how did that song Randal wrote go?  The one praising your incomparable wit and beauty?"

"Christopher," she chided quietly.  "Now is hardly a time for that."

"No, now is the perfect time.  We have emerged victorious once more."  His grin widened and his eyes were hungry.  "Now how did it begin?  Ah, yes.  Nine and twenty ladies served in the Queen's hall," he began expectantly, pressing his lips into the mess of her hair and tangling his fingers in the folds of her dress.

Kate faltered ever-so-slightly.  "Follow, my love, come in at the door."

"But bonnie Katherine Sutton was the flower among them all."

"And we'll never go down to the Well any more," she whispered, feeling his kiss at her throat and her tears trace her cheeks.

 


End file.
